


Coward For Love

by Brumeier



Series: Bite Sized Fic 2018 [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Family Secrets, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Letters, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 23:29:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14389362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: LJ Comment Fic for Domestic prompt:Any, any, finding something interesting while cleaning out the attic/basementIn which Jeannie unearths a letter from one of her and Rodney's ancestors, which sheds some light on John and Rodney's feelings for each other.





	Coward For Love

“This is ridiculous!” Rodney sneezed. “The woman saved everything!”

“You don’t need to go through every box,” John couldn’t help pointing out. Rodney had cobwebs in his hair and a smudge of dirt on his forehead. John had to school his features to keep from revealing how adorable he found that.

“What if she actually has something valuable in here?”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Jeannie said. “This is the same woman who collected little jelly packets from Denny’s.”

The three of them were crowded in a dusty, hot attic sorting through a mountain of boxes and trunks and old furniture. Rodney’s great-aunt Claudine had recently passed away and Jeannie had coerced them into helping her clean out the house to get it ready to put on the market. Downstairs things were neat and tidy. The attic was chaos.

Rodney opened another box. “Oh, wonderful. Cousin Vera’s baby shoes.”

John raised an eyebrow when Rodney pulled the shoes out, dangling them by the laces. “Those are baby shoes?”

“Big feet run in the family on the Standish side,” Jeannie said.

“So do hairy toes. Right, Jeannie?”

In response she threw a wadded up green velour turban at her brother.

“Hey, John,” Jeannie said. “You’ve heard about men with big feet, right?”

John just stared at her, his face flushing. Rodney rolled his eyes. 

“They have good _under_ standing.” Jeannie started laughing and Rodney threw the turban back at her.

“That was grandad’s worst joke and you don’t make it any funnier.”

John loved watching Jeannie and Rodney. They sniped at each other, picked on each other, and would defend each other to the death. John and his brother used to have that kind of relationship, before John and his father regularly started butting heads and Dave got caught in the middle. Sometimes he thought about calling, trying to re-establish a relationship, but there was always the feeling that too much time had passed.

“You okay?” Rodney asked, looking intently at John. 

“Fine.”

Silence pooled between the three of them for the next little while as they continued to look through boxes of old clothes, baby toys, books, and magazines. John had never met Aunt Claudine, but she’d definitely had trouble throwing things away. Sentimental? Or just lazy?

“Holy shit!” Jeannie exclaimed. “Mer! Look at this!”

She had a small wooden box on her lap and was waving an old, sepia-toned photograph at her brother. Rodney snatched it out of her hands and John leaned over to get a look at it.

It was faded, obviously very old. The subject of the photo was a man dressed in a fancy vest and a hat, a revolver at his hip like some kind of high-end cowboy. John studied the guy’s face. Scrawled in the corner of the photo was a name: E. Standish.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156598319@N08/26740297937/in/dateposted-friend/)

“Who is he? I can kinda see a family resemblance.”

“That’s our many-greats uncle, Ezra Standish,” Jeannie said. “Aunt Claudine used to tell us stories about him sometimes. I didn’t know she had that picture, did you?”

“No, she never showed it to me.” Rodney handed the photo to John. “Meet our illustrious ancestor. Grifter and flim-flam man.”

“You know that’s not the whole story.” Jeannie continued to dig through the box. “He joined up with a group of mercenaries after the Civil War. They did a lot of good things for a lot of people.”

“Once a con man, always a con man,” Rodney said dismissively. 

John studied the photo. He tried to imagine what life had been like in the post-war West. What little knowledge he had came from movies, which weren’t exactly historically accurate. He wondered what Rodney might have been like, had he been alive back then. Would he have still been a scientist? Or maybe a cowboy or a cardsharp?

“You have no romance in your soul,” Jeannie said. “Hey, there’s a letter in here, from Ezra to his sister. I didn’t know he had a sister. I wonder if Aunt Claudine has a family tree around here somewhere.”

“Yes, I’m sure it’s fascinating. Do you think these books are worth anything?”

John handed the photo back to Jeannie and took a look at the books Rodney had unearthed. They looked like they might be first or second editions, though most of the titles were unknown to him: _The Kip Brothers; The Lady of the Barge; The Songs of a Sourdough_. 

“’Dearest Esme’,” Jeannie read. “’I hope this letter finds you well. While I appreciate your offer to join your and your husband in the Dominion I’m afraid I have to decline. My singular skills are needed here in the uncivilized wilds.’”

Rodney made a derisive noise. “Egomaniac.”

“Runs in the family does it?” John asked. Rodney made a rude gesture.

“’Truth be told, sister, I cannot leave because I am a coward. A slave to my traitorous heart. He is like a beacon in the dark to me and, though I know I can never have him, I cannot turn my back and abandon him. To do so would be as unthinkable as leaving my cards unmarked.’” Jeannie looked up, eyes wide. “Esme must’ve been pretty open-minded for Ezra to write about so openly about being gay. Also, Aunt Claudine never mentioned that in any of her stories. Did she?”

Rodney had gone still beside John. He snapped his fingers and held out his hand. “Picture.”

Jeannie gave him a dirty look before handing back the photograph of Ezra Standish. John, just as interested in the words of a man long dead, asked Jeannie to keep reading the letter.

“’So here I will remain until one of us slows down enough that we can’t dodge that final bullet. I know you will understand, as no-one else ever could, why I remain when my inner turmoil is so great. To not be around him would whither what little remains of my immortal soul.’” Jeannie sniffed, her eyes bright. “’Buck sends his fondest regards, as well as an offer not at all suited to a respectably married woman. Josiah has thoughtfully enclosed a Bible verse he feels will bring you comfort in your new home. Be well, sister. I do love you. Your brother, Ezra.’”

John stared at the book in his hands, a first edition of _The Invisible Man_ that he’d grabbed at random from the box Rodney had opened, without really seeing it. Ezra’s letter had touched a chord in him, and it left him feeling uncomfortable in his own skin. He knew all too well what it was like to be in a one-sided love affair with someone, to know he could never have the object of his desires and yet be unable to stay away from him.

“I wonder who it was,” Jeannie mused. “According to Aunt Claudine, Ezra ran with a pretty big crew. I had to be one of them, don’t you think? Mer?”

Rodney shrugged, but he didn’t stop looking at the photo. “Probably the Man in Black. You know, the one who was their leader. I don’t remember his name.”

“I think it was Chris or Casey or something. Why him?”

“Tragic backstory? Charismatic leader? If Uncle Ezra really did reform, it was probably because someone on firmer moral ground expected more of him. Made him want to be a better person.”

John chanced a look at him, but Rodney had his head down. It almost seemed like he was talking about someone else, but that couldn’t be right. In all the time John had known him, Rodney had been attracted to beautiful, busty women. John was a lot of things, but he was no match for Sam Carter.

Jeannie hummed. “Maybe you aren’t completely without romance.”

“Gee, thanks.”

The sound of the doorbell reached them from downstairs and Jeannie set aside the wooden box. “That must be the pizza. Lunch time!”

“We’ll be right down,” Rodney said. He tossed the old photo back in the box and stood up, dusting his hands off on his already dirty jeans as his sister headed down to pay the delivery guy. “Sorry you have to waste one of your vacation days sitting around an attic, Colonel.”

“I don’t mind,” John replied. He stood as well, book still clutched in his hand. “You think Ezra ever got his man?”

Rodney huffed out a laugh. “I suppose it’s possible. I mean, if you look back at homosexuality throughout history, it’s clearly more prevalent at that time, at least in the States. The Old West was a man’s world, meaning women were in short supply. Especially in remote areas for ranching or logging. Have you ever heard the term ‘bachelor marriage’? It wasn’t uncommon. But if Uncle Ezra ever took the plunge, Aunt Claudine certainly never mentioned it. And…and he probably didn’t want to ruin the good thing he had on an iffy prospect.”

John was feeling a little reckless. Maybe he’d inhaled too much dust, or maybe it was Rodney’s disheveled appearance, or maybe the fact that Rodney seemed so well-versed in historical homosexuality. Like he had a personal interest.

“He should’ve taken a chance,” John said hesitantly. “Maybe if Ezra had let the guy know how he felt, he’d have been surprised.”

Rodney finally made eye contact and John’s heart started to race at the uncertainty he could read in Rodney’s expression.

“You think so?”

“I think it’s a helluva waste of a life, being too afraid to take action. Living with what-ifs.” John looked at the book in his hand. “It’s not easy, feeling invisible to the one person you most want to see you.”

Rodney stepped over the box of books, putting him almost toe to toe with John. “I see you,” he whispered. “I’ve always seen you.”

John looked at him, almost shaking with nerves. He could be making a terrible mistake. Or changing his life for the better. “I’m tired of being a coward.”

He leaned in and kissed Rodney, and that first press of lips almost undid him. He waited for rejection, waited for snarky, biting words, but Rodney kissed him back, pulled him close, made a rumbling sound in the back of his throat that John could feel all the way to his toes. He tossed the book aside, not caring where it landed, and wrapped his arms around Rodney, hanging on for dear life.

Everything John had been holding back, every emotion he’d been bottling up, spilled into that kiss. He felt lighter, freer, than he ever had, and when they finally pulled back he couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face.

“Wow,” Rodney said, panting. “Really?”

“Really.”

Rodney surged against John and they were kissing again, and John was laughing and stumbling backwards until he ran into an old trunk and dropped down on it, Rodney standing between his legs and kissing him like it was the end of the world. 

Or the beginning of a new one.

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** When I recently re-watched _Magnificent Seven_ , it struck me that the character of Ezra Standish and Rodney McKay had some commonalities. Both reluctant heroes, both reaching heights of unexpected bravery. I’d argue that there’s even a bit of a physical resemblance. I’d been wanting to do a story about them and this prompt was just what I needed.
> 
> Esme was invented for this fic and did not exist in canon.


End file.
